


Bits and Pieces: One hit Wonders

by AngrySpaceGingers



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-15 18:41:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15419199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngrySpaceGingers/pseuds/AngrySpaceGingers
Summary: Just little one hit wonders! Couples mostly and just funny scenarios!





	1. Not a Dream

It was day three now.

Day three in the wastes of Tattooine.

At least three days since she had come back. And quite frankly, he still couldn’t believe it. On the days that he had been tired, he would have fallen asleep quite simply after his usual meditation and communication. But it had been three days now since he would be sitting awake, staring at the new figure in his bed.

This couldn’t be real. Again, his mind cycled through his disbelief, going through the same routine, just in a different order.

First, Ben rubbed his eyes rather vigorously and blinked a couple times to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Then normally came pinching himself, but tonight he found himself standing up and stepping outside before he did that. The night was calm and slightly cold, a significant difference between the temperature inside the small house and outside, and it seemed soothing. Almost surreal. But with the pinch it certainly felt real.

Perhaps if he did something different.

Taking a deep breath his hand came up and with a yank, plucked a straight, ginger peppered hair from his beard with a hiss and a much noticeable flinch. Yes, that would wake him up. With a nod, he would turn to walk back into the house. He passed by the couch, the kitchen, and right back into the bedroom where he stopped in the doorway.

She was still there. This wasn’t a dream.

He felt something swell within his chest as he stepped back to the bed and sat down on it, a hand moving to hover over her shoulder before moving to run his fingers through her hair. He watched her sleeping face shift slightly, her head tilting before an eye opened up with a sleepy stare. Thankfully she understood completely what he was doing, and a small crack slid on her lips before the tired voice broke the silence with a slight croak to it.

“I’m still here, worry-wan….”

He couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh, leaning down to bury his face within her neck and pull her close. The swell of joy filled him more when he felt her arms wrap around him. This brought back familiar memories, so many good ones, and he couldn’t stop smiling from it. Bearded kissed were given to her cheek and neck before she would turn and press a kiss to his lips, which he graciously held for a moment.

“Lie down and hold me close… I will still be here in the morning until Jinn jumps on the bed to wake us up.” She tugged him a little bit to roll him back into the bed, chuckling softly. He had almost forgotten about the second gift sleeping in the other, smaller room.

“Alright… Alright I’m coming dear..”


	2. Memories

It was smooth.

The mask he had been wearing since the incident on Moraband was a sobering reminder of just how badly they could fail at this. Even though he stared at the mask, he couldn’t see it. That was thanks to a saber striking him across the eyes. His hand moved up to touch the scar, sighing before he heard someone opening the door and quickly moving to put the mask back on.

“Leave it off, Kanan, you don’t need to hide that from me.”

Hera. The one good thing that stuck with his stubborn self. The mask was set aside, a wry smile pulling onto his lips before leaning both elbows on his bent knees.

“You know, if you were any quieter walking in you could slap me upside the head.” He joked, sitting back and waved a hand lightly before it held out to the Twilek pilot. The only thing he heard was a soft snort coming from her before a gloved hand took the outstretched one and pulled him to his feet.

“ Perhaps, but you beat yourself up enough, you don’t need me doing that as well.” She smirked, stepping in close only to pause when Kanans hands slipped up and traced the markings on her lekku. This was different, but he was dead on with his fingers grazing over the darker green markings. “How…”

“I memorized what you looked like.” He admitted, staring ahead before he turned the clouded, blind eyes to her. As creepy as it could be sometimes for her, his eyes showed a softness to them this time, almost sheepish.

“You… memorized…”  
“I did… because in my eyes you were perfect. Every mark, every angle and curve were something I never wanted to forget. Even if I cant _see_ you in a physical sense. I can see where my fingers go, because even blind I can see you perfectly in my memory.”

Hera might have been holding her breath, a combination of how his fingers felt against the sensitive skin of her lekku and astonishment that he memorized that. Her eyes looked gentle, brow resting as she felt a small smile pull to her lips before she brought a hand up to cup his cheek.

Wait…

She paused before she did, tugging the glove off before her hand found it’s spot against his cheek and stroked at the cheekbone with a thumb. He leaned into her touch, almost longing for this to not end. Ever.

Hera took one step closer before rising up on her toes to press a gentle but firm kiss against his lips, getting a muffled sound from Kanan. He wasn’t going to complain, a free hand sliding down the curve of her spine and resting on the small of her back. If anything, celibacy was one thing he didn’t miss from the temple, as sad as that sounded.

It felt like forever, but slowly their kiss broke, Hera giving a little smirk before she brushed her fingertips against his jawline. “Now, lets finish this war so we can retire.”

“Retire? Does that even exist?”

“Shut up Kanan…”


	3. Come What May

Snapping from black, the muffled sound of a voice can be heard along with the shaky image. The pristine walls of the temple towered above the recording woman as she walked on the path leading to the gardens. For a moment, the view rests on the doorway, quiet aside from the background hum of people walking past before the lens turns and is looking at the freckled face of a blue-eyed redhead, who is giggling lightly before whipping back to the garden doors with a stifled snort of laughter. One voice seemed to come from the closed doors, and slowly the door opened with a soft creak. The voice is getting louder, and once reaching the garden, an auburn-haired male is standing there in cream robes tending to some flowers. He is singing, and a slight shift in his stance shows the Negotiator, Obi-Wan, tending to a group of flowers. The lyrics he is singing are quiet, but the camera slowly moves closer and the lyrics come through slowly, growing in volume the closer the woman got.

“Listen to my heart, can you hear it sings  
Telling me to give you everything  
Seasons may change, winter to spring  
But I love you until the end of time….”

There’s silence for the moment that he goes through the chorus before the camera is set down with a slight and precise click on a bench, keeping him in the shot as the woman, a ginger in her own right in brown and blues, come into view. Before Obi-wan continues, the woman starts to sing the next lines, causing him to whirl around with a look of shock on his face. Stammering a little bit, he quickly matches the next words to her singing to continue the song with her.

Thankfully they were alone, but the still recorder stays focused on the two, the flowers momentarily forgotten about as the little duet continues. With the ending of the song, voices fading, he’s staring into her face, trying to hide a small smile before he speaks up. 

“You better not tell anyone about that…”  
“I Won’t Obi-wan… our secret.”  
The woman gives a very small wave of her hand, hidden from his view behind her back, and the recording shuts off.

The force was a wonderful secret keeper.


	4. An Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin/Padme fluff

Glowing.

She was glowing. That’s what it was. He hadn’t been able to put his finger on it and had done the same thing every night. He watched as Padme brushed her hair. Granted it was at varying times of the night, but tonight.

Anakin figured it out, and for a moment he drifted off into bliss at the beauty. This was his happy place, the reason he kept fighting, the reason he had not left the order and given up on himself.

The blue eyes traced from the crown of her forehead in the dying light, trailing down over that nose, the lips he missed when he was away, the figure of his wife.

His WIFE. There were times that he still had to make sure this wasn’t a dream. There was one way, and he fumbled quietly to bring out the holocommunicator. He glanced down to it, then up to the sight before him before he took a silent picture.

He wanted it to be etched forever in his mind, the golden rays fading behind her as she gazed out over the bustle of the city and traffic below. The way her hair shimmered a soft brown as it danced over her shoulder.

People often asked why they kept fighting the war and didn’t work on diplomacy.

Anakin had his reason.


	5. Reclaiming Honor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word definitions:
> 
> Beskar'gam: Traditional Mandalorian armor  
> Dar'manda: Outcast, One who has lost their heritage  
> Di'kutla: Useless, Stupid, worthless

Silence seemed to surround the woman, the dim light bouncing off the black and gold Beskar’gam. It wasn’t enough to draw any attention to the dirty blonde woman that peeked through the visor of her helmet.

A soft wind rushed over her with a hushed howl, but her eyes never left the sights of the rifle in her hands, her grip steady and her aim sure and true. As the golden gaze looked to it’s target, she couldn’t help but remember the trooper who she was aiming at.

It was a painful reminder, hand squeezing the grip of the rifle as she remembered. All too easily, she remembered the days that were spend being whipped and trained, the men trying to beat the Mandalorian ways out of her. Trying to conform her to the Empire. Her back stung, the lashes now nothing more than a multitude of scars against her back that caused her jaw to clench almost painfully.

She only saw under the helmet once, a grizzled old face that showed enough years that he had most likely been a volunteer soldier during the Clone Wars, something that was not well heard of during that time. After all, why would someone willingly fight in that war. They had the clones.

The clones. ‘Born and Raised’ to do nothing more than fight a war that was dripping with dirty politics and under the table deals. It made her sick…

 

The target moved, and with him the barrel of her rifle followed. It had been him that caused this, she reminded herself. It was his fault that the platoon she had been a part of now lay dead on some backwater planet thanks to her own hand. She had, of course, made sure nothing could be traced back to her. By the time that anyone knew what was going on, she was long gone back to Mandalore, slipping in past the eyes of Death Watch until she could get back into the family armor and dispose of the blood covered trooper armor.

Mandalore. Home. The only thing she had going for her at this point. She had to reclaim her family name, make sure that she was not classified as a dar’manda. To be considered that was almost a spit upon her family’s memory, and after running through a trial, she had been given her family’s name once again.

Here she was though, staring through it, and she almost had a second thought. Maybe….

The quick pull of the trigger cemented her decision, her body flinching slightly with the recoil, but she didn’t care.

All she cared was that the trooper dropped to the ground with a crack of the helmet and plenty of screaming from bystanders. The other trooper that was with the commander quickly whipped his head around, trying to find her, but by the time that the di’kutla got to her location, she would be long gone.

After all, no respectful Mandalorian hunter would be seen by it’s future prey….


	6. I Promise....

Those proud moments happened more and more as time went by. Anakin watched every day with sometimes a goofy smile on his face. At times he would secretly smack himself with the durasteel cybernetic only to grin goofily when he didn’t wake up alone in a bed during the war. The war that kept them apart for months on end.

This was not one of those times, for he was seated on the floor like a child in front of Padme with his head against that round belly of hers and his flesh hand on the side of her belly. He couldn’t hear more that body sounds from her, but he could feel something squirming in her. And that something made him smile.

“The baby’s healthy?” Blue eyes looked up to his wife with child-like enthusiasm, which only brought a laugh from her as she brought the back of her hand up to her mouth as if to stifle her laughs, only covering her mouth.

“Yes, the baby is healthy, Ani! Healthy, growing just fine…” She smiled, one hand resting on the peak of her belly while the other hand wound up running through the sandy blonde hair of his. She thought a moment, leaning back just enough so the small of her back rest against the couch back.

“Ani… I want to have our baby back on naboo...”

“Better than Tattoine.”

“Ani!” 

Another laugh left her lips as Anakin sat up, keeping his hand on her stomach and looking up to her with a serious, but goofy look in his eyes.  
“No sand.”

Padme let out an exasperated sigh, shaking her head with a wry smile.

“A little sand… I want to have the baby at the lake house… There’s a room there that would be perfect. It’s large, plenty of natural light, and faces the sunrise across the lake.”

Anakin listened dutifully, but he slowly set h is head back against that belly with a dreamy smile on as he listened. She was so cute when she did that. Granted she was cute when she did anything, including that awkward waddle walk.

“The lake house huh…? I think I could deal with a beach of sand for that…. Once this war is over, I’ll leave the order... and we can stay there together.”

“Promise?” Padme spoke up, looking to him. “ You mean that?”

“I promise…”


	7. Someday

Every night was the same as always. He was either confined the hyperbolic chamber to meditate or the bacta tank to ease the pain the suit and prosthetics caused. Karking cheap prosthetics. They were bulky, clunky…

Cold.

As he sat there, h e let himself calm enough to slip into the void of meditation. But this time was different. He could have sworn he felt something in the chamber with him. It was, in all ways, impossible for anyone else but him to b e in there. Vader would investigate, reaching out in the cold darkness of the force before he spoke up.

“Who dares to come before me now?”

“Ani…”

If he had any way to inhale quickly he would have taken a sharp breath, but it only came out as a wheezing gasp. He didn’t dare turn around, because it wasn’t possible. She was long gone, long passed at his hand.

But she was there.

The small, gentle hand slid to his hand to grasp it, and even though Vader could see the petite woman’s hand, he couldn’t feel it in his hand. Another unfortunate side effect of the prosthetics. Slowly, he watched the long-haired brunet make her way around him, causing him to recoil in shame.

“Padme… I..”

She brought a hand up to quiet him, a soft smile on her lips. “Ani…. it’s alright… I forgive you...”

Those three words were enough to break the man. He clunkily fell to his knees, tears sliding down his cheeks hidden by the mask and helmet he was forced to wear to survive.

“But I killed you… and our child…” The words crackled from the vocalizer, cracked as much as his stone wall he had spent years putting up. Padme shook her head lightly, her hand moving to the helmet to gently touch it. “You didn’t directly kill me, Anakin. There’s so much I wish I could tell you.”

Her voice sounded pained, something he wished he could take from her. Hell, he wishes he could take all the pain from her and take it upon himself. If only that could bring her back to him. 

Padmes other hand moved up, unclasping the mask and helmet to remove them. It revealed the scarred, pale flesh underneath, and the sorrow filled gold eyes staring up to her with a pleading, sad stare. “Take me… with you…” Vaders voice rasped, gasps following his words.

“Not yet…. You have much more still to do, but I know there is light still in you…” Her hand touched his cheek, smiling. “ I love you, Anakin…”

 

Vader woke with a start in the chamber, looking around quickly at the stark white walls as he breathed quickly. It made him dizzy, but he brought a shaky hand up to touch the cheek of the mask that she had touched. A growl left his lips when he remembered he couldn’t feel.

For once, he truly did believe he could be with her again. Maybe one day.  
‘you have much more still to do.’ Those words rang through his head in her voice, pulling the helmet off and covering his eyes with a gloved hand.

For the first time in fifteen years, he felt that maybe, just maybe, he could turn things around.


	8. Sweet Summer Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS MATURE. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

“But how is it done?”

Several drinks had gotten the two to this topic, but nothing had made Poe choke on his shot than the question that Finn asked. He gasped, coughing and pounded his chest a little bit, waving off Finn’s concerned hand before he gave him a little smirk.

“How is it done? What do you mean by that, it’s sex!”

Finn pouted, jutting his lower lip out at the others laughter. “I don’t know how two men do it! I know that for a male and female he… well… enters her… but how do men do it? Does one dick enter into the other one?”

Poe stared. He flat out stared long and hard to him. This poor sweet summer child had no clue. It was almost a shame to destroy the innocence he had, but if he wanted to get anywhere with him…

Poe called for another shot, quickly taking it and downing it before he set the glass down. Finn watched him, squinting a little bit and looked to Poe. “Don’t you think that’s enough?”

“Not to explain what I have to. So, listen up and get a strong one.” Poe cleared his throat using both hands to point ahead. “Pretend… Pretend my hands are males, and my fingers are their dicks…” This sounded ridiculous, but it was the best that his drunk brain could think of. Finn glanced slowly down to the two hands, soon giving him an incredulous stare. 

“O…..kay…?”

It was Poes’ turn to pout. “ Shu’up. Right., these are men and their dicks. Now… you can’t exactly do it like this.” He poked his fingers together, shaking his head. “But what you _can_ do is this…”

He turned one hand around, so his finger was now pointing the same way [which left h is hand in an awkward position, but for sweet Finn’s sake he would do it] and poked the finger through the hole of his fist.

Finn watched for a moment, letting it process before his eyes went rather wide and looked to him. “But that’s my ASS.”

“SHHHHH” Poe waved his hands around in front of them frantically, looking around at the strange stares they were getting before he ordered another drink. “Don’t knock it till you try it Finn. If done right it can be damn perfect.”

Finn stared at him long and hard, and he went for that strong drink, quickly gulping it down. Setting the glass on the bartop, he rubbed his face, grumbling a little. “Of course it requires something like training…. Is it worth it?”

Poe hummed against the lip of his most recent drink, giving a cocky smirk before winking. “Oh it’ll be worth it.”


End file.
